


Heaven Knows What Happens Now

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, Making Out, Prom, Semi-Public Sex, Teenagers, Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-02 18:11:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5258618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It becomes a thing. A ‘making out in secret at parties’ thing. Cam slips notes in Chris’ locker, Chris goes to each party and every time, without fail, they end up pressed up against walls and sometimes a bed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven Knows What Happens Now

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aqualined (inabstract)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inabstract/gifts).



> Takes aspects of _Pretty in Pink_ and mixes it with your general trope-y high school AU stuff. I hope you enjoy this, aqualined!
> 
> Edited notes: thanks to Amanda and Veronica for cheerleading even though they don't really know these guys (and Amanda beta'ing), thanks to Rachel for cheerleading and she does know these guys.

Chris was not the type someone rushed to take to prom. He couldn't necessarily be called a catch, in his own humble opinion. His glasses were thick and black rimmed, his hair was too curly and unruly, and he had an unfortunate case of acne. 

Cam Talbot, on the other hand, was the definition of prom king. Popular, clear skin, good hair, and he was actually friendly too. If it hadn’t been for Henrik, an exchange student who was rumored to be some type of Swedish royalty to begin with, he'd probably stand a chance at winning. 

So no, Chris didn't belong at prom, and he certainly didn't belong at Cam’s side more than Stacy Stevenson, who was leggy and blonde and devoid of facial blemishes.

But it also didn't explain why Cam had been making out with him in semi-public spaces for the past few months. And it also didn’t explain what he was doing sitting there with Kevin, hoping Cam actually gave him the time of day.  
______________________________

It starts the way these things usually start: the jock is failing a class, the nerd tutors him. Except Chris prefers to be called a geek, not a nerd if he has anything to say about it. Chris is in AP English, Cam is fighting for a good grade so he can actually graduate this year and also stay on the school’s hockey team. It’s a match made in academic heaven. 

Chris starts tutoring him in January, at the suggestion of Cam’s teacher. Chris loves required reading, Cam hates it. 

They go over The Old Man and the Sea, Chris outlining its major points and Cam avidly listening. 

“You’re good at this stuff,” Cam says after their first session. 

“Well, yeah, that’s why I’m here.” 

Cam shakes his head, laughing, and Chris just continues on with the lesson, ignoring the fluttering in his chest.

That part only lasts a few weeks. A few weeks of going over Hemingway and then The Baron in the Trees, Cam asking Chris questions, acting way more invested than someone who hates required reading. A few weeks of shared looks and talking about movies and sports and music and all the books Chris likes that Cam should totally read, in between all the tutoring. 

Beyond their meetings in the library, they don’t run in the same circles. When Cam said, “So I’ll see you around. Thanks for this,” at the end of their lessons, Chris kind of assumed that was it. 

He didn’t expect Cam to start saying hi to him in the halls. 

Or for him to say, “Hey, you should come to a game, man,” when Chris is sitting on the blacktop at lunch with Kevin, minding his own business and reading Kafka while Kevin went through his Magic the Gathering cards. 

“Um, hi?” Chris says uncertainly, staring up at Cam and squinting. 

“Hi,” Cam says, eyes shifting to Kevin, who hasn’t even looked up, and then back to Chris again. He shoves his hands in his coat pockets. “It’s really cold out here, you know that?” 

Chris shrugs. “Says the guy who plays ice hockey.” 

Cam laughs, takes one hand out of his pocket and drags it through his hair. It’s an unfair movement, that’s for sure. 

“Which brings us full circle. Come to a game, Kreider.” 

Chris bites his lip, wonders why this is even happening right now. Wonders moreso why he actually says, “Okay, fine.”  
___________________________

So he goes to a game and they win. Cam gets half-hugs and helmet taps all around from his teammates. Chris would totally kiss him if he was one of them. Cam probably deserves kisses after a win like that. 

He leaves before he can find out if Cam would’ve sought him out or not. 

The next day Chris finds a note in his locker. 

_missed u at the game. house party at hank’s this friday. b there or b square_. 

Except he didn’t write the word ‘square’, and instead drew a picture of one. 

Chris shakes his head, grabs a pen out of his backpack and replies _and they call me the nerd. fine, okay._

He slips it in Cam’s locker (or what he hopes is his locker, he’s not actually a stalker like some people apparently) and hurries away. 

Kevin and JT think he’s selling out by going to a popular kids party. They tell Chris this that night following pizza and some D&D in Chris’ basement. 

“It’s not selling out, it’s -- expanding my horizons.” 

Kevin snorts. “Kreids, your horizons include reading, linguistics and yoga. Do they really need more expansion?” 

“Yes,” Chris replies simply. “Now are we playing or what?” 

_______________________________

Chris’ horizons that actually needed expanding include: partying and making out. 

That being said, he does not attend the party with the intention of rectifying that last part. 

He isn’t exactly complaining when it happens, though. 

Because there’s Cam, in his stupid lettered jacket with his stupid perfect hair and day-old scruff on his face. 

“I’m glad you showed up,” Cam says when he finds Chris in the kitchen by the keg. 

“Figure senior year is the best time as ever to go to a party, right?” 

Cam laughs. “Yeah, I guess so.” 

They stand there, awkwardly. Chris finds himself missing the easy conversation they’d fall into during their study sessions. 

“Soooo, read any good books lately?” Chris asks, self-deprecatingly.

Cam laughs again, does that whole hand through hair thing again. Makes Chris’ pulse race, _again_. 

“Um, no. But I’m no longer failing, so I’ve got you to thank for it.” 

“So the game and the party invites are what? My thank yous?” Chris asks, smirking a little. 

Cam shrugs, but he suddenly looks nervous. Chris doesn't know what to do with that. “Got kind of used to you hanging around.” 

Chris only had one beer, so he was pretty sure he wasn’t hearing things in an alcohol-induced haze. 

Their eyes lock again, and this time it isn’t awkward at all. It’s -- well -- hot. 

He’s still not sure how they get from point A to point B, but that horizon expanding thing occurs in one of the many bedrooms in Henrik’s exchange family’s house, with Chris pressing Cam up against a wall and Cam letting him do it, licking deep and slow into his mouth. 

They make out until Chris is moaning and Cam is grinding into him. Until commotion in the hallway makes Cam pull away and whisper, “We should go,” and Chris nod, even though he really wanted his horizons to get even broader.  
___________________________

It becomes a thing. A ‘making out in secret at parties’ thing. Cam slips notes in Chris’ locker, Chris goes to each party and every time, without fail, they end up pressed up against walls and sometimes a bed. 

Chris likes to leave hickies on Cam’s neck, sucking at the hollow of his throat while Cam drags his fingers through Chris’ hair and holds him there. 

“Never thought you’d be the type,” Cam gasps, making Chris shiver as his thumbs stroke the overheated skin at the back of his neck. 

Chris isn’t sure if he means the type of leave hickies or the type to make out at parties in general, but he can’t say he really cares enough to find out. 

The only thing he does care about is that they haven’t moved this thing beyond the ‘making out in secret at parties’ stage. 

“He’s like, ashamed of me or something,” Chris says when he’s in Kevin’s room and just drunk enough to divulge that particular insecurity.

“Well then he’s an asshole,” Kevin replies. 

Chris shrugs, frowning down at his beer can. “We’re totally different. If this were the real world we wouldn’t be friends. We wouldn’t even know each other, probably.” 

It’s true. Cam’s parents are well off yet he’s getting a full ride to college because of sports, while Chris is enrolling in a community college because his parents can’t afford much else. He did get an English scholarship based on an essay he wrote, but it only covered $2,000 of the tuition, which is essentially nothing. 

“If high school isn’t the real world… what is it?” 

Chris rolls his eyes and kicks at his leg. “You’re high, Kev.” 

Kevin pushes the bowl at him and Chris accepts. “Okay, how’s this? Maybe you should stop making out with him at parties, then.” 

That’s -- better. It’s what Chris needs to hear. 

________________________________

It might’ve been what Chris needed to hear but it wasn’t what he _wanted_ to hear, and now it’s April and he’s still making out in abandoned bedrooms and sometimes closets (oh, the irony) with one of the most popular kids in school. 

Chris can catalogue so many things about Cam now. He’s like his own personal map. Things like the way he smiles when he bumps into Chris’ glasses as they kiss. Or the way his pulse picks up in his neck when Chris is sucking a mark there. 

Or the way Cam’s body feels on top of him when they’re dry humping, biting at one another’s lips to keep quiet even though the music on the other side of the wall will drown out the sounds they make when they come in their pants. 

Or, most recently, the way Cam breathes out his name when Chris finally gets a hand on his dick, while locked in the bathroom of Derek Stepan’s house.

“Chris, oh _fuck_ , Chris,” Cam chants and then he’s palming Chris’ dick through his jeans and fumbling for his zipper.

They jerk each other off, kissing through it. They come at almost the same time and Chris slumps against Cam, panting. Cam giggles and Chris smiles. He wants to say something like, “why don’t we walk to class together tomorrow” or “let’s go see a movie some time” but he doesn’t say anything and when they exit the bathroom Cam’s embraced by his friends, laughing loudly, and Chris hangs out in a corner until he’s feeling steady enough to go home.  
_________________________________

Prom is approaching, and the voting for prom king and queen are happening. 

Cam smiles at Chris in the halls, and his face goes red as he does so, but they still don’t talk much. 

They have no classes together, and their lunch periods don’t overlap. 

Chris gets a note in his locker that says _I had a great time the other night_.

He doesn’t invite Chris to a playoff game and Chris doesn’t go. 

“This guy is so hot and cold,” Chris bemoans to JT while they’re playing Mario Kart. 

“Who, Mario?” 

Chris throws him an incredulous look, which in turn makes Mario almost run off the road. 

“ _Cam_ , dude, not Mario, jesus christ.” 

“Oh, right. Jock guy.” 

“Yeah,” Chris replies flatly. 

“So just talk to him. Outside of your weird makeouts.” 

Chris scoffs. 

That seems entirely too simple for high school.  
_______________________________

It is indeed entirely too simple for high school. 

“Hey,” Cam says quietly as they pass one another in the hall. So quietly Chris probably wouldn’t have heard him if he hadn’t been actively listening for it. 

“Hey,” Chris replies, and instead of walking by like he normally does he just -- falls into step beside Cam. 

“Oh, uh. What’s up?” Cam asks, looking around before looking back at Chris. 

“Nothing, uh. I -- had fun the other night, too.” 

Cam looks at him quickly, looks around again. “Right, um.” His cheeks are pink. Chris normally likes that look, but right now it’s making him uneasy. 

At that moment, Henrik comes up to them, clapping his hand on Cam’s shoulder. 

“Hey, Talbot. You coming tux shopping later? My exchange parents have a personal tailor.” 

“Oh,” Cam says. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be there.” 

Henrik looks at Chris. “Hey, haven’t you been at some parties?” 

“I have indeed,” Chris says, pushing his glasses up his face. 

Henrik laughs. “I’m sorry, I don’t even know your name.” 

_Who’s fault is that_ Chris thinks bitterly, looking at Cam. 

“Um. This is -- Chris Kreider, he helped me in English.” 

“Oh, cool. You want in on this tux thing, too?” 

Chris’ eyes roam over Cam, taking in his uncomfortable stance. 

On the wall behind him is the poster for prom. It kind of hits Chris all at once, then. How he’s never been to a dance before and has no plans to go to prom. How Cam is one of the front runners for prom king. How Cam can afford to go and get a personally tailored tuxedo and Chris would barely be able to afford renting one. 

“No, I’m good. I’ll see you around.” 

“Kreider--” he hears Cam call after him. 

He doesn’t turn around.  
____________________________

_I’m sorry. Meet me at the rink after tonight’s game?_

Chris stares at the note that’s in his locker the next day before crumbling it up and throwing it in the trash. 

He sits in his room that night, stewing. He shouldn’t go. 

He’s gotten really bad at listening to his rational brain lately. 

By the time he gets there in his parents’ car, the lot is basically empty. 

He heads toward the locker room and finds Cam as he’s coming out of it. 

“Hey,” Cam says, eyes surprised but happy. 

Chris’ dumb heart flips. 

“Hi,” Chris says. “You win?” 

“We did,” Cam replies. “I’m uh. Sorry. About yesterday.” 

“Whatever.” 

Cam frowns. “Not whatever. You’re -- great. I’m just --” 

“Embarrassed by me,” Chris finishes for him. 

Cam’s eyes go wide. “I’m not! I’m --” 

Chris crosses his arms over his chest. “You are. It’s cool, man, I get it. You’re rich and popular. I’m not. Oldest story in the book. A classic, really.” 

Cam shakes his head, biting his lip. He reaches out and touches Chris’ shoulder. He shivers at the contact. “I really like you, Chris, I do.” 

“But?” Chris adds, because there’s always a ‘but’. Nothing is that simple. Especially not in high school. 

“But everyone just -- expects shit from me, you know?” 

Chris nods jerkily. “Expects you to be straight. Certainly expects you to not be with some blue collar kid from the wrong side of the Boston tracks.” 

Cam looks at him, eyes pleading. “I don’t care about that,” he whispers. 

His mouth might be saying that, but Chris knows better. 

He steps back, letting Cam’s hand fall off his shoulder. “You want to not care about that,” Chris corrects. “But you do.” 

“Chris,” Cam sighs. 

Chris shakes his head. “I’ll see you, man.” 

He turns and leaves. Cam doesn’t try to stop him.  
_____________________________

The notes in his locker stop after that, and with them the house party invites. 

When they pass in the hall Cam keeps his head down. 

They might have barely interacted at school, but it suddenly feels so lonely without Cam’s even minimal presence in his life. Chris partly hates himself for making the decision he did, thinking graduation was soon enough and he could’ve just gone on with the private kissing sessions and secret notes and looks. At least his dick would’ve thanked him. 

The other part is happy he took control of the situation, made the non-pathetic choice. 

But his dick still isn’t handing out any thank-yous. 

“You should go to prom,” JT says. 

“Why? I don’t care about prom.” 

JT scoffs. “You totally do.” 

They’re in Chris’ room, supposed to be studying. Chris doesn’t _want_ to care about prom, is the thing. Prom is for people like JT, who’s had the same girlfriend since freshman year and will probably end up marrying her sooner rather than later. 

Prom is for people like Cam and Henrik, who will look great in their tuxedos and have girls falling over them. 

“Stop trying to make everyone the hopeless romantic you are.” 

“We’ll hang out, we’ll go to a comedy club after. Or sing karaoke, you love karaoke. Come on, man.” 

Chris sighs, thinks about having to see Cam there. 

“Let me think about it.” 

So he thinks about it. And a week before he tells Kevin, “If I went to prom, would you go too?” 

“I’ve just lost a bet with Miller, but sure. Why not.” 

So Chris rents the cheapest tuxedo he can find, ignores the fact that he overheard Stacy Stevenson saying she was going to the prom with Cam, and hopes to hell that someone spikes the punch, because he’s going to need it to get through this thing.  
_________________________________

And here’s where we came in: Chris, black-rimmed glasses, unruly hair, and a bad case of acne, hanging out with Kevin on the sidelines near the gym bleachers, while JT dances with Natalie and Chris tries (and fails) not to look at Cam. 

Cam, in his perfectly tailored tuxedo standing next to Henrik, who somehow manages to make Cam look like he’s wearing something as cheap as Chris. Cam, standing with Stacey, who is laughing at something and leaning into his side. 

Cam, whose mouth he still can’t forget and whose scent he can still smell. 

Cam, whose eyes have now met his when Chris forgets to look away fast enough. He’s got the same look in them as the last time they spoke: lost, sad, a little confused, somewhat frustrated. 

“This was stupid,” Chris mutters to Kevin. 

Kevin claps him on the shoulder just as a fast song start up. 

“C’mon, loser, let’s dance like idiots.” 

“Well, you’re definitely an idiot so it shouldn’t be too hard,” Chris quips, managing a grin. That’s probably what Kevin was going for, anyway. 

Chris indulges him for a few songs, eyes still cutting over toward Cam every so often, who was now dancing badly himself. 

And then it’s time to announce prom king and queen. Stacy wins. No one’s really surprised. And then, somehow, Cam beats out Henrik. 

“I’m outta here,” Chris says, not wanting to watch the two of them stand up there together, looking so perfect for one another. 

Not wanting to watch them slow dance after. 

“Dude, c’mon --” Kevin is starting to say, but Chris just waves him off and walks quickly out of the gym quickly. 

He doesn’t even know where he’s going because JT’s parents ended up renting them a limo. He just walks through the lot, rolling his eyes at himself and pulling off the dumb clipped-on bowtie, tossing it onto the ground. 

And then he hears someone calling his name. 

He turns, eyes widening when he sees it’s Cam sprinting toward him. 

“What are you -- dude, you’re prom king.” 

Cam slows to a stop as he reaches him, shakes his head. “I don’t give a shit. I don’t-- I should’ve asked you to be my date. Stacey and me, we’re not --” he sighs, frustrated. “From the start I should’ve asked you.” 

Chris scoffs even as his stomach begins a nervous somersault. “Look, you barely know me, okay? Let’s not --”

But Cam steps into Chris’ space, pins him with his gaze, presses his hands to Chris’ shoulders. “I know enough,” Cam whispers. “I -- every time I asked you to those parties -- they were dates, okay? I’m sorry I wasn’t brave enough to let you know that.” 

Chris swallows, surprise rolling through him, his brain trying to catch up. “Okay,” he says finally. 

“Okay?” Cam asks, expression a mix of hope and trepidation. 

Chris leans in, slow enough so Cam knows what he’s planning. Slow enough that Cam can duck away. 

He doesn’t. Their lips meet, slow and uncertain until Cam groans, squeezes Chris’ shoulders beneath his palms and presses in harder, his tongue slipping past Chris’ lips. 

When they pull away, Cam’s breathing hard and Chris’ heart is racing. He places one hand over Cam’s on his shoulder, intertwining their fingers and bringing their arms down to their sides. “Okay.” Chris repeats. “So take me in there and make it up to me.” 

It’s a challenge. A test, really; one he wants Cam to pass. Because he’s not exactly sure where they go from here if he doesn’t. Probably not forward, possibly backwards. 

Cam inhales deeply, lips curving into a smile. He squeezes Chris’ hand. 

They walk through the parking lot, through the school doors, into the gym with their hands intertwined. 

Some people stop and look at them as they walk across the floor, others don’t even notice. They’re only in this school another month and then everything changes. Maybe it gets easier, maybe it doesn’t. They’ll be near one another anyway, neither leaving the state to go to college. 

Chris puts all of that on the backburner for now, focusing on Cam’s grip on his hand, strong and firm and the way he pulls him into his arms for a dance, the dance he never gave Stacey. 

“Does this make up for it?” Cam whispers against his ear, his breath tickling Chris’ skin. 

“It’s a start,” Chris replies, hiding his smile in the curve of Cam’s neck. 

The ~~End~~ Beginning.


End file.
